In Flight
by eidheann
Summary: What a Malfoy wanted, a Malfoy got. And Draco Malfoy wanted Harry Potter. / Written for 2013 hd owlpost holiday fest. Dystopian!AU, Creatures, Blood


**Title:** In Flight  
><strong>Author:<strong> eidheann (eidheann_writes)  
><strong>Gift for:<strong> darkravenwrote  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> ~5000  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Contains:<strong> creatures, blood, a dystopian magical au  
><strong>Notes:<strong> this wouldn't exist without the cheering, encouraging, handholding, advice, and prereading I got from tryslora, omi_ohmy, nattish, and capitu  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> What a Malfoy wanted, a Malfoy got. And Draco Malfoy wanted Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>The late afternoon sun had just hit the point where it cast beams of honey gold directly across Draco Malfoy's desk when he reached for the final file and opened it. A half-toppled stack on the floor beside him hinted at the time he'd already spent on the task. He scanned the file quickly before leaning back in his chair to read through again, a slow smile growing as his head spun with possibilities. Given the name on the file, it would be a controversial choice, but he really was the best option. Draco touched his wand to the bottom of the file, granting his approval via magical signature. He wasn't worried about convincing his father; what a Malfoy wanted, a Malfoy got. And Draco Malfoy wanted Harry Potter.<p>_**Name:**__ Harry Potter, b. 31 July, 1980  
><em>_**Attended:**__ London Primus 1991-1996, OWLS earned: O def., O chm.  
><em>_**Attended:**__ London Secundus 1996-1998, NEWT-Equivalents earned: O def., E chm.  
><em>_**Consul Britannia Eligibility:**__ Employment first rank Defense, third rank Charms  
><em>_**Applying for:**__ Defense Specialist 2, Draco Malfoy (Lucius Malfoy, Pater Familias)_

* * *

><p>.xXx.<p>

"Harry _Potter_, Draco?" Lucius Malfoy raised a hand to his forehead, his expression pained. "Surely you are joking."

"Yes Harry Potter. And the scores, Father. O in Defense and E in charms. He is fully qualified for the position, hell he's _overqualified_." Draco leaned across his father's mahogany desk and gave the file a firm tap, right over the NEWT-Equivalents. "_O in Defense_. The next best candidate only rated an A."

"But Potter. The entire situation is..." His father gestured vaguely, his pained expression morphing to one of distaste. "How does it look when we employ the bastard son of James Potter?"

"James Potter is- _was_ the problem; hiring Harry Potter shows you are willing to look beyond that. Sins of the father and all that rot."

"His mother was a Mudblood."

Lucius' protest was weak, and Draco smiled, knowing he'd won. "Lily Evans _was_ a Mudblood. She earned Proletarii when she got her NEWT-Equivalents. E in Potions, Father. And in Charms. I looked it up. Two NEWT-Es are better than a Mudblood should do; she obviously brought some brain and skill to that liaison."

A sigh, then: "You've made up your mind, haven't you?"

"Yes."

Lucius Malfoy looked over the file and shook his head. "You are responsible for this. Nothing can go wrong, Draco. It _cannot_ be allowed to negatively affect the family." At Draco's nod, Lucius touched his own wand to the file. It disappeared in a flash of golden light.

* * *

><p>.xXx.<p>

It wasn't that Draco didn't understand his father's reticence. The entire Potter thing was practically a horror story; the warnings of it had been told to him from the time he was in nappies.

The Potters were a fine old Patrician family, nearly as old and respected as the Malfoys. Then their son James, in a fit of post-Hogwarts rebellion, had taken up with a Mudblood who had scarcely had the ink dried on the papers promoting her to Proletarii, enabling her hiring at one of the Consul Britannia potions labs.

The Potters ignored it, for Lily Evans was smart and pretty, a good worker, and hardly the worst receptacle for their son's wild oats. But when she fell pregnant, James did the unexpected: he told his parents he loved her and wished them to marry.

They loved their son, and had he wished to claim the child and keep the woman as concubine, they would likely have allowed it. A Halfblood bastard by a pretty Mudblood was the sort of open secret most old families had. But when James threatened to be married as a Muggle rather than follow his duty to Pater Familias, they did the only thing they could, and disowned him before he could bring further shame.

The death of Lily Evans on Halloween in a lab explosion when the babe was but a year old compounded the tragedy. James followed some years later, proving once again that Mudbloods, whether Proletarii or Servii, could never mix with the Patrician classes without tragedy following in its wake.

Draco didn't care much for the stories, however. What he'd told his father was true: Harry Potter was overqualified for the job. Doubtless he'd had issues finding employment, most old families likely sharing Lucius' distaste of the name and scandal.

Draco saw opportunity. Potter would either be so grateful to have a job, much less a cushy job playing bodyguard to the heir to one of the oldest families in Britannia, that he would make a pathetically loyal minion; that or he would be entertaining, something that would be lacking even more in Draco's life once he was Bonded at New Years. He was uncertain which potential he liked more.

* * *

><p>.xXx.<p>

He couldn't say what he'd been expecting, but when faced with the reality of Harry Potter standing almost at attention at the end of the long hallway, Draco had to acknowledge that Potter wasn't it.

As a Defense expert, Draco had expected someone larger. But he guessed the top of Potter's messy black hair would only come to the tip of Draco's nose. For all there was hinted breadth of shoulder and chest beneath his serviceable charcoal robes, he resembled nothing so much as a professional Seeker.

Then Draco was shaking his hand and exchanging introductions and several things hit him at once. One: Harry's small size was not an illusion, but of no matter. He had the strength Draco expected, barely contained but obvious and simmering in his direct gaze and firm handshake, and wand and broom calluses were prominent against Draco's own carefully smooth palms. Two: his eyes were green behind the round lenses of his glasses; green like the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, like the leaves of his mother's white roses as they started to bud, like all of Draco's favorite things rolled into a single moment. Three: Draco Malfoy _wanted_ Harry Potter. Stirrings of desire washed over him; causing a tingling in his scalp, gooseflesh creeping down his back and a heavy awareness of his cock, hot and filling in his pants. The thought that this should worry him, especially with his looming Bonding, was quickly dismissed. What a Malfoy wants...

"Please call me Draco when we're not in front of the Pater. Your application was truly exceptional. I'm looking forward to working with you."

"Harry Potter. Good to meet you."

* * *

><p>.xXx.<p>

Harry Potter was a challenge. He was remarkably capable at his job; overly capable of managing security for an heir not yet in charge of a family, in fact. Draco had a flat, but it was in a building owned by his Pater, and therefore under his father's protection. Harry went everywhere with Draco, his presence always _there_, a frisson of awareness invading Draco's thoughts. He was perfectly cordial, his conversation intelligent and witty; he spoke with Draco like a friendly employee when they were alone, but faded into the background in public adroitly enough Draco suspected some form of modified _Disillusionment Charm_. He even won Lucius over in the first month.

It was driving Draco mad. Three months after meeting Harry, fall was giving way to an early wet winter, and all of Draco's attempts toward a friendlier relationship with him had been deflected or ignored. It wasn't even so much about getting into his trousers, anymore; he'd half-caught Harry eyeing him several times already. The more time they spent together, the more he wanted to _know_ Harry; his thoughts, his opinions, his memories. But each time he attempted a serious conversation, questioned anything personal, he was politely deflected. He tried not to think about how that hurt.

* * *

><p>.xXx.<p>

On Halloween, everything changed. Harry's usually tightly controlled energy was positively simmering, and he scowled and paced Draco's flat like a caged nundu. Harry's tension made Draco irritable and snappish, and after spending the morning sniping at each other, they'd reached an unofficial arrangement that Draco would remain in his office and Harry in the kitchen, and they would do their best to stay out of each other's way. He understood why Harry was upset- the anniversary of his mother's death couldn't be an easy thing to deal with, even a mother he wouldn't have any real memory of.

He failed to push down the feeling of guilt that began creeping in during their painfully silent lunch. When Harry dropped his fork and stood to leave, words came before Draco even gave them thought. "Harry, I'm sorry."

Harry blinked at him, his expression owlish behind the round spectacles before it darkened once again. "For what? The death of a Mudblood you don't know and could care less about?"

Draco winced. "For losing my temper and snapping when you're obviously upset already. For a valid reason, whether I know anything about her or not."

Harry continued glaring at him for a moment before he sat down again with a sigh. "What do you want, Malfoy? And don't tell me _nothing_; you're always pushing, so you obviously want something. I wish you'd just tell me and get it over with."

Again, the words came, as if compelled from him by something in Harry's intense gaze. "I want… You. I want you."

Harry let out a bark of a laugh, strong and bitter. "You can't _have me_, Malfoy. I know what happens to people like me when they're taken in by people like you."

Draco flinched, and Harry eyed him, his scowl fading slowly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be taking my temper out on you, either."

Draco cleared his throat, ignoring the tight feeling in his chest caused by Harry's words. "What can I have, then?" His voice was hoarse and almost unrecognizable.

Harry watched another moment before he stood again, reaching a hand across the table toward him. "Come on."

* * *

><p>.xXx.<p>

He didn't expect Harry to pull him into his own bedroom. After his very specific denial, he figured any room with a bed would be a level of intimacy that wouldn't be allowed. But Harry entered Draco's room and sat on the navy velvet coverlet as if he owned it, watching silently as Draco stood, caught by the image.

He swallowed around his suddenly dry throat, skin beginning to prickle with heat as he felt a blush rising; Harry's expression shifted briefly to amusement, before he relaxed into a comfortable slouch on the bed, his eyes heavy-lidded in invitation.

"What do you want, Draco?" Harry's voice was quiet, but it pulled Draco forward a step, then another.

Draco caught himself before he gave the same answer, closing his mouth on another stated _you_, and offered instead: "Suck my cock?"

He'd intended it a statement, for all he knew it came out as a question instead. Harry noticed as well, for the amused expression was back. "You want me to suck your cock?"

The question was difficult to answer. _Of course_ Draco wanted Harry to suck his cock, so he nodded even as the voice inside him was screaming how much _more_ he wanted. Wanted to kiss Harry, fuck Harry. But he would take what he could get; and as Harry pulled him forward by his trousers, nuzzling against the hardness already waiting there, he reasoned that what he could get was not so bad at all.

"Take off your clothes. Please?" He was uncertain why he was asking when he was used to demanding, but fear of being told no, of Harry stopping kept his words soft and tone pleading.

Harry pulled away, blinking up at him before replying. "Since when does a blowjob require that?" He was spared having to answer when Harry started undoing his buttons, sliding his shirt off and tossing it and his glasses aside before pushing Draco back far enough to do the same to his trousers. He had time to note that Harry wore plain white y-fronts, that they contrasted with his smooth, lightly-tanned skin in a way that begged to be touched, and that the bulge behind the cotton was indicating he was not disinterested before Harry's hands moved quickly down the buttons of his own shirt. "Turnabout's fair play."

Draco's gaze was caught by Harry's smirk. The twist of his lips caused his eyes to sparkle with what Draco could tell himself was happiness. Then there was a sharp downward tug as Harry dropped, pulling his pants and trousers down as well, and he hissed as his cock bobbed in the cool air.

He managed to pull his feet free of the pile of clothing without stumbling, though the quiet hum Harry gave as he nuzzled into his bollocks made it difficult. He was close; embarrassingly close given that Harry had done little more than look at him and touch his cock once. He almost panicked; it wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to want Harry so much he was willing to do anything for a crumb of attention. But the same feeling of need, of certainty, of _rightness_ that led them here to his bedroom quickly quieted his fears. Anything Harry had to give was perfect.

And it was. Harry tongued him, gently teasing his balls, then ran his nose up the side of Draco's cock. Draco whimpered at the sensation, smooth and warm, before reaching down and running his fingers through Harry's messy black hair. "So soft…" Harry glanced up at him, the faint stubble on his cheek catching him with dozens of pinpricks of pleasure. Then he smirked again before taking the cockhead in his mouth, running his tongue quickly around once, twice, then jabbed the tip against his slit and released with a pop.

"Suck like that?"

"Fuck…"

Harry laughed, not the harsh laugh of earlier, and shook his head. "Not what you asked for." He reached out and began stroking Draco's prick; too loose, too slow, but the feeling still seemed too intense, driving Draco one step closer to too-close. He closed his eyes, uncertain whether it was better or worse being unable to watch Harry, only to imagine the stretch of lips around his cock, the green eyes holding his, hyper-aware of the sound of his breathing, the blood rushing through his veins. "You're close, aren't you?"

Draco nodded and opened his eyes to gauge Harry's reaction. He'd never been so close from so little before. But Harry simply nodded, tightening and speeding his grip and Draco came with a gasp and a feeling of something missing.

It was embarrassing, but Harry simply wiped him off and waited a moment. "It's alright. I could tell you were ready for quite a while."

He nodded, staring blankly at the window, anything to avoid eye contact with Harry. When he'd caught his breath and the silence began to feel uncomfortable, he was startled at the sudden warmth when Harry cupped his balls. "So, blowjob? Or would you like to renegotiate that request from earlier?"

He laughed- because it was awkward, and Harry's cheeky smile _wasn't_ mocking. He was sensitive, but Harry was carefully not-touching his prick. It wasn't the first time he'd imagined them having. None of his fantasies had involved coming almost before he was touched whilst standing in a pile of clothes, but _now_ Harry really was nuzzling his cock and it was too much. Too much, too sensitive, and yet he thought he'd die if Harry stopped.

"I'd like to renegotiate. Please?"

Harry's face seemed torn between a delighted smirk and a wicked grin. "Lay down."

He stumbled to the bed, collapsing when Harry gave him an unexpected shove. But when he rolled over and flopped against the pillows, it was to the sight of Harry sliding out of his pants, his hard cock causing Draco's mouth to go dry. Harry crawled onto the bed, then onto Draco, until he straddled his shoulders. "Seems if you expect to fuck me, I should be the one getting a blow job."

He'd never thought the insistent press of a cock against his lips would be so welcome as this. Harry didn't pause, just twined his fingers loosely into Draco's hair and slid into Draco's mouth before his brain fully caught up. Draco generally preferred to savor when given the choice; to take his time learning what worked best for his current partner. Harry seemed to care little for technique, fucking into Draco's mouth, stopping just before reaching too deep, then out again, leaving Draco scrambling to tongue the head before sliding in again.

It was perfect. Harry's face was flushed and his pupils so wide they left only the faintest ring of green. They quickly established a rhythm, Harry's eyelids fluttering slightly as he fed Draco each stroke, and he gave a quiet hitching moan as he pulled back against the suction, his cock leaking salty, bitter fluid that Draco just couldn't get enough of. Draco held on as best he could, hands gripping, squeezing Harry's tight arse, mapping the feel of it and letting one finger slide in to tease the crack.

"Fuck, yeah. Like that." Harry pulled back after a few more thrusts, his cock popping out of Draco's mouth, causing him to whimper at the loss. "Where's the lube?"

"There." Draco nodded toward the left nightstand, unable to do more while Harry was still sitting on his chest.

"Brill." He leaned over and rummaged in the drawer for a moment before sliding back onto Draco's lap, uncorking the vial and dumping a large splash onto Draco's navel before recorking and tossing it aside. He dipped his fingers into the puddle, giving Draco's prick a few quick strokes that left it shimmering faintly with the oil before reaching behind himself.

Draco groaned at the sight. Harry, his expression of concentration, brow furrowed slightly, a warm pressure on his legs. His cock was hard and heavy beside Draco's, so Draco dipped his own hand in the oil and took both in a firm grip, rubbing slowly.

"That's good. That's good." Harry mumbled encouragement and Draco continued the measured wank until Harry crawled forward enough that Draco could feel his cock slip along Harry's crack. Then Harry reached behind himself again, his fingers gentle on Draco's cock, and slowly pressed down onto him.

"Fuck." Draco gasped as the vise-like heat around his cock seemed to reach up and steal his breath as well, his eyelids falling closed at the feel. It took all his concentration to keep stroking, and he was grateful he'd come once already though he was certain he wouldn't last long either way.

Harry continued to push. He only paused a moment, wiggling slightly once his arse was pressed firmly against Draco, before he rose again and dropped with a grunt. After a few more times, the way eased enough that they established a rhythm; Harry riding Draco's cock, Draco thrusting up to meet him, his hand busy on Harry's cock.

Draco was surprised by the things he noticed. His attention felt locked onto his cock, the feeling of Harry sliding around it. Still, his awareness felt heightened; the slap of skin against skin seemed loud in the quiet room, filling the silences between the gasping breaths and quiet moans; the smell of sweat, of the come Harry had wiped but not banished, of Harry. The only sense that seemed trapped was sight. His eyes were caught by Harry's, contact demanded by the unwavering green gaze.

It was overwhelming, yet he wondered how he'd survived so long without this, how he'd known Harry only a few months and now somehow _this_ was as necessary as breath. His last coherent thought was that he could never again live without Harry Potter.

Then Harry ground down hard against him, letting out a garbled shout as his prick pulsed in Draco's hand and his arse clenched tight, shocking Draco with the onset of his own orgasm. His back arched off the bed, and there was a moment of shock and pain at the feeling of something tearing from his back, before he was surrounded by something soft, warm, wet, pulling Harry tightly to him. Then the world went black.

* * *

><p>.xXx.<p>

First was the feeling of peace, of fulfillment. He felt _happy_ in a way he could never remember being. Then there was pain, a sharp agony in his back, coupled with the coppery scent of blood, a weight and feeling of otherness. His eyes shot open, and his vision was filled with Harry- eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips dark and swollen. _"Beautiful."_ He reached forward, his hand brushing against Harry's face, a feeling so strongly of _mine_ filled him and then he heard it: a noise like a bird coming from _his own mouth_.

He felt his own eyes widen in panic as he realized what had happened; what he had done. The thought that Lucius would kill him was quickly overwhelmed by the _certainty_ that Lucius would kill Harry as well. Without thinking, he flung himself from the bed and grabbed his wand, pointing it at Harry.

_"Oblivi-"_

_"Expelliarmus!"_

Draco's wand shot from his fingers with a force that stung; but even before Harry caught it Draco was shaking his head, gasping for breath around the strangling panic rising within him. "No no no no no no you can't. He'll kill you. He'll kill you."

Harry's frown faded, and he reached forward, placing a hand on Draco's chest. "Who will kill me? Draco? Draco, breathe. Who will kill me?"

Draco clutched the hand, every instinct demanding he ensure Harry's safety. "Lucius… You have to let me… You can't know."

"Know the Malfoys aren't as pure as they claim?" Harry stroked a bloodstained feather, and the feeling of it shot through him as if he'd instead stroked Draco's oversensitive prick.

"Yes…" And he knew if he wasn't overwhelmed with the need to protect Harry, just that touch would have had him ready again in an instant. Harry realized it as well, and Draco was keenly aware of the flare of desire lighting his green eyes.

He pulled Harry's hand away from the wing, unable to think of it as _his_ wing or he'd panic again. "You can't know. I'll tell him… I'll tell him it was a rentboy. That I Obliviated him and ran. That you weren't there. I'll Apparate to him and he'll… And you couldn't know."

"Draco, breathe."

Draco shook his head, pushing himself up and away from Harry's touch. He knew he was babbling, his hands were trembling, but the panic when Harry was touching him was growing as strong as the panic when he wasn't. "You can't know. Give me my wand. I'm sorry about… I know you had problems, but Lucius will provide good references to keep you from asking questions."

Harry blinked, his face falling to confusion for the first time, making Draco wish he could just kiss him, and- "You're talking about my _job_?"

Draco nodded. "There won't be a need for security once I've been splinched. It's tradition." And he laughed, because it was that or scream.

Harry was on him faster than he anticipated, still naked, and his hands felt like brands on Draco's shoulders. "What do you mean, splinched? What the hell are you talking about?"

He let himself lean forward, his forehead pressing lightly against Harry's shoulder; just for a moment let himself feel the heat, the smell, that was Harry. One breath, then another, then he felt able to speak. "Malfoys have veela blood. I don't know how far back; we destroyed the records pretty thoroughly."

Harry's arm slowly slid around his shoulder, avoiding the wings, and pulling him into a loose embrace. Some part of him cursed the fact he had found this, only to lose it so quickly.

"Veela blood doesn't go dormant. It's why I'm 19 and bonding to someone 5 years my senior who I've never really met."

"I wondered about that..." Harry's voice was quiet, and the feeling of it rumbling against him made Draco reach around him and cling.

"She best met the qualifications. Easier to explain Malfoys looking like veela if both parents are always white-blond. But, Bonding prevents us from..." His shoulders hunched forward, and there was a painful sharp ache as the wings came forward as well in an obviously protective gesture. "It prevents this."

"What exactly is _this?_"

"The failure of the family rumor mill." Harry's silence continued to drag answers from him, even though the passing of time was making his fingers itch for his wand; the feeling of impending danger making him want to leave, to confront Lucius before Harry could be put at risk.

"It... it is one-sided, it doesn't cause any... anything to you. Everyone in the family says mating can only happen if children can occur."

"Mating." At Draco's nod, Harry continued: "You've bound yourself to me, meaning you can't bond with Greengrass."

He sighed, pulling away from Harry's slack grip. "That too. Mating also activates the veela blood." He let his gaze travel slowly around the room, careful to not focus on where Harry had let Draco's wand fall after disarming him.

"Wings..." And Harry reached forward again, fingers tracing a single feather, his expression rapt.

Again, the feeling went through him and straight to his cock. He wanted to fall to his knees, to swallow Harry down, mark him, fuck him, his cock filling in spite of everything. But every instinct that clamoured to claim him was silenced by the stronger need to protect him.

So Draco let himself fall...

He grasped his wand tightly, pointed at Harry. His tears and shaking both were strong enough he knew he'd need a miracle to get the spell to land.

"I'm sorry. I'll only take from lunch."

"Draco, stop-"

"If Lucius knows you know, he'll kill you too."

"Too?"

"I'm dead either way."

"The hell you are..."

A breath, and the image of Harry bleeding, his boundless energy forever stilled, enabled Draco to steady the wand. _"Oblivia-"_

The pain in his back was excruciating, and the hot coppery wetness told him he was bleeding again. Harry was on top of him, both hands held Draco's wand pointed to the wall, and his knees pressed Draco's shoulders into the ground. There was the sensation of grinding bone and then a crack as he tilted, dropped the wand, suddenly unable to breathe through the pain that felt strangely apart from him as his vision tunnelled until it contained nothing but Harry's face.

"Draco. Fuck." Harry's weight slid from his chest and he pulled Draco upright. He watched Harry's face, trying to breathe around the sound in his throat, a sound he'd heard once when a wild dog had gotten one of his fathers' peacocks, leaving nothing but blood and feathers and the memory of the cry rending the evening air. "Fuck. _Episkey. Episkey!_"

The noise was horrible, and he could feel the bone this time, sliding into place before the sharp pain in his back, and the odd pain he assumed was the wing faded to deep throbbing aches he could at least breathe through.

"Back with me?" Harry was breathing hard, his hands cupping Draco's face as if trying to will him back to calmness. At Draco's nod, he continued in carefully controlled tones. "Now, we are going to discuss this. You are not going to die, I won't let anyone kill you." A pause, then he sighed. "Even if it's the person signing my cheque."

"But-"

"No. We'll clean up and go somewhere we can plan."

Draco pulled away, dread filling him. "If you think Lucius will hesitate to do away with me because I've appeared in public looking like this…."

"Modifying _Disillusionments_ are practically a specialty of mine. I should be able to hide your wings well enough to get us out of your Pater's immediate grasp." He reached forward, twining his fingers tightly around Draco's. "We'll clean up, get dressed, and get out of here. Maybe to Gringotts; no one spies there but the Goblins."

Draco nodded as Harry stood, pulling him up as well. The ache in his back lent a feeling of unreality to the wings he _knew_ should be overbalancing him, but weren't. He stared at Harry a moment before turning toward the door to the bath. Harry's fingers tightened on his and he glanced back to see Harry watching him. Finally, Harry smiled, cautious but somehow more open than Draco had seen from him before. He followed when Harry tugged him back, then pulled his head down to give a chaste kiss to his forehead. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Draco nodded, watching as Harry sent a _Scourgify_ to the blood-stained bed, watching the play of muscles in his still-nude form. He wanted to believe Harry, but knew he'd do everything in his power to save him, regardless. Maybe they'd be able to save each other.


End file.
